Just Three Little Words
by InfinityStar
Summary: As Christmas approaches, Eames tries to get a reluctant Goren to accompany her to her family's Christmas gathering while she strives to make a deeper connection with him. Sequel to Dreams of Hope.
1. Not Enough

**A/N: Flamipoo asked for a follow-up of _Dreams of Hope_, maybe Goren and Nate at Christmas. Thank you for that suggestion! This story takes place about four months after the events of _Dreams of Hope_, during Christmas week. Yes, we will have some angst in here, but I am shooting for a happy ending :-)**

* * *

Robert Goren studied the board in front of him. Pictures of two victims along with crime scene photos were tacked to the corkboard while the details of each murder were listed on a nearby whiteboard, comparing the similarities and differences of each crime scene. They didn't have any solid evidence that the crimes had been committed by the same person, but a nagging feeling in his gut told him they were. He was missing something, but what?

His partner, Alex Eames, came into the room with a brown paper bag and two cans of cola. "Lunch," she announced.

She looked out the door, but no one was paying attention to them. In a way, she really missed Logan. He would have noticed long ago that something between her and Goren had changed since they'd returned from England four months ago. Although she was often annoyed by his ability to see relationship issues, positive and negative, between her and Goren, she missed the feeling that someone around them cared enough to look.

She set the bag and the cans on the table, unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite. Goren still did not respond to her. Setting down the sandwich, she grabbed his sandwich and walked around the table. She was tempted to tease him, but the risk of discovery was too great given the room they were in. She was surprised that they spent their professional lives among seasoned detectives, and over the last four months, none of them had noticed that anything between them was different. People tended to have some kind of morbid curiosity about how Goren lived his life. They didn't understand him, so that made him interesting. But they were not looking for anything between them to have changed because they didn't believe that, after all these years, she could develop any kind of romantic interest in her difficult partner.

Stepping up to his side, she held out his sandwich. Her hand came to rest against his stomach, and he looked down, then at her. She smiled at him. "Lunch," she repeated.

"Oh. Thank you."

She nodded toward the two boards that held his interest so fast. She knew he was struggling with it. "Has anything reached out and grabbed you?"

He took his sandwich and unwrapped it. "No. Just you."

Looking up, she met his smiling eyes. Poking his side gently, she walked back around the table and sat down, watching him eat as he turned his attention back to the board. He was unable to let go of the feeling that the same person had killed these two young women of privilege. He just needed to find the motivation, the link between them and the proof that he was right.

* * *

Goren and Eames tended to leave 1 Police Plaza at odd times, so they were alone in the elevator as they descended to the parking garage level. "Nate really wants to see you, you know," Eames said out of the blue.

"So bring him to town and I'll take you both to lunch and maybe the Museum of Natural History."

"That's a nice idea, but I was thinking...I'm going to my parent's Thursday for Christmas Eve. Nate's going to be there, too. Come with me."

Over the past four months, she continued to see Nate a couple of times a week, and Goren never interfered with that. But he never went with her, either. He still felt responsible for Nate's kidnapping and he convinced himself that Reggie and Aaron still blamed him for what had happened to their son. Eames told him that he had been discharged from therapy and he was doing fine, and she assured him that Reggie had gotten over her initial reaction blaming him for the kidnapping, but he still avoided contact with her family.

He shook his head. "No, thanks, Eames. I...have plans for Thursday."

"What plans?"

"I'm going to visit family."

She sighed impatiently. "Your mother and your brother?"

Frank Goren was buried beside their mother because she would have wanted that. Once a month, Goren visited their graves, and Eames never interfered with that. She'd even gone with him once, but she felt out of place, like an intruder into a private moment she had no business attempting to share.

"Yes," he answered.

The rest of the ride was silent, but after they exited the elevator, she said, "You can't keep avoiding my family if you expect us to stay together, Bobby. You have to face them sooner or later. I know you don't believe me, but they keep asking to see you. They want to include you as part of the family. I know you still feel responsible for what happened, but they don't blame you any more. You kept me safe, and you saved Nate's life. You were willing to give your own life so he would go home to them. In the end, that is what matters to them. Besides, as long as we are together, you're part of my life, and they want to make you part of theirs, just for that reason. So I really wish you would quit being stubborn." He didn't answer her. He just looked at the ground and shifted, either nervous or ashamed. She couldn't tell which. She added, "I'll make a deal with you—if you go with me on Thursday, I'll go with you to the cemetery on Friday. I don't think your mother and brother will notice, or care."

He shook his head slowly. "I don't think so, Eames."

"At least think about it for the next day or so? Don't dismiss me outright."

"Dismiss you? I'm not..."

"Yes, you are. I'm not going to stand here in the cold and debate it. I'll see you tomorrow. Good night, Bobby."

He hesitated as she walked away. "Eames?"

She stopped and looked over her shoulder. "What?"

"I kind of was hoping to see you tonight."

She gave him a moment of consideration before she said, "Not tonight."

He watched her walk the rest of the way to her car, get in and drive off without looking his way again. She always punished him, one way or another, when she didn't get her way. Going with her to visit her family would be horribly uncomfortable for him. She would have a much better visit if she went by herself. Why couldn't she see that? He felt she was being unfair again. Instead of making him angry, like it once did, now it just made him sad.

His breath clouded in front of him when he sighed. There was no reason for him to leave now, so he got back into the elevator and returned to the eleventh floor.

* * *

Eames went home to a cold, empty house. She knew she was being stubborn, but having him share her time with her family was important. She realized that he had never had the benefit of belonging to a close-knit family, but her parents were willing to draw him in to theirs. All he had to do was accept the invitation. Really, was that so hard to do?

There was something else that was troubling her, though—something that had more to do with turning down tonight's invitation than the issue with her family did. She and Goren were not new lovers. They had known each other for a long time before they took their relationship to the bedroom. Although the circumstances that led to them to deepen their relationship had been extreme, their decision to continue had been made with clarity.

She knew he could be difficult, and the last four months had certainly reinforced that for her. But she knew that loving her came with its price, too. In spite of the difficulties, the relationship thrived. But the one thing that troubled her most ran deeper than that.

For all his emotional issues, Goren was always tender and gentle with her. In the bedroom, he met all her needs and desires, and he never asked for anything from her. That was part of her problem. If he had needs or desires beyond meeting hers, he never expressed them. He rarely ever expressed _anything_ to her, but she did not know how to address that with him.

The other part of the problem was obliquely related to that. Over the past six weeks or so, she had told him that she loved him. It was a huge step for her to express those feelings aloud. She'd never spoken those words to another man, except for Joe.

The first time she said it, he hadn't responded, so she thought he had not heard her and she let it go. The second time, she knew he heard, but he'd distracted her and she never sought a reply. Every time since, he'd either changed the subject or distracted her, but not once had he responded in kind.

She realized it was not something she could let go without addressing. If he did not love her, there wasn't much point in continuing the relationship. She'd reached a place in her life where she needed more than sex. She needed a connection that ran deeper than a physical one. Connecting with Goren on an emotional level was a challenge that she thought she'd gotten past, but maybe she was wrong. So she had to figure out a way to bring the subject up, and that involved proper timing.

During sex and directly afterward were definitely not the times to bring it up. Naturally, during work hours was also the wrong time. So that left the off duty hours around dinnertime but before bed. She wasn't too keen on ruining their dinner, so all that remained was the relaxing hours after their meal.

On the days they went home together, regardless of whose home they went to, after dinner, they would sit together on the couch. She usually watched television while he read. Inevitably, he would end up snuggled against her. Sometimes, he would rest his head in her lap; other times he would draw her close to him. Regardless, he always sought physical contact with her, one of the things she loved most about being with him. But as well as she thought she knew him, Goren continued to surprise her, and she'd finally realized that she would never completely know him.

The one thing she wanted that he seemed unwilling to give her, though, was the emotional connection she needed. His inability to connect was not his fault, she realized, but that realization did not eliminate her need. Some would say she was being foolish. Their physical relationship was more than satisfying, and he showed through his actions that he cared about her. She didn't know why she required more from him; she just did. It was a vital need of hers that he was not meeting and she had to do something about it or it was going to tear them apart.


	2. Reconnecting

When she arrived at the squad room the next morning, Eames thought she'd gotten in before Goren for a change...until he showed up. He was freshly shaven and in a clean suit, but she recognized the suit as the one he kept in his locker. "You didn't go home last night," she said.

"Uh, no...I...I worked. I crashed for a couple of hours in the crib."

She watched him gather the reports from his inbox and study them as he walked to the conference room where he was working, making it clear he didn't want to discuss it. She gave Ross an update and joined Goren, watching him compare the autopsy results with the crime scene photos. His notes from each scene were scattered over the table, and he consulted them, too. "Find anything?" she asked, knowing that work was always a safe topic between them.

"I'm not sure." He shuffled through his notes, then consulted the autopsies. He slammed the reports down on the table and thumped them with his index finger. "Bingo. Here it is, Eames. The thread that connects the two victims."

She leaned over the table beside him. He turned his head to look at her, but he said nothing. He tapped the papers in front of him. "Autopsy," he said softly, continuing to look at her. "The...autopsy..."

She moved her hand, stroking the back of his with her index finger. "What about the autopsy?"

After another moment, he looked away, taking a little more time to compose himself. It was rare that their personal feelings interrupted their work, but it happened from time to time. It was a reassuring event for both of them.

"The autopsies," he said, refocusing. "Each of our victims had bone cancer. We need to pull their medical records."

"I'll get on that."

She moved away and left the room. He let out a long, slow breath and dropped his chin to his chest. After a moment, he picked up the reports and turned around to look at the photos on the cork board.

Eames returned to the room, stopping in the doorway. "Let's go, partner. We have another victim."

He grabbed his binder and jogged after her.

* * *

Eames squatted beside her partner as he examined the body. "It's the same MO, Eames. I'll bet you fifty she had bone cancer, too."

"If they hadn't been dumped in such prominent areas and caught the right attention, they'd have been shuffled to the overworked local units and dismissed as drug overdoses."

He leaned back on his heels, thoughtful. "The cancer...they were newly diagnosed. They hadn't started chemo yet."

"How do you know that?"

"Uhm, chemotherapy requires frequent IV access. Patients undergoing chemo have central IV lines placed when they first start chemo, for ease of access...usually subclavian...in the chest." He motioned his hand over the victim's clavicle. "My...My mother had one. When she discontinued her chemotherapy, they removed the line."

She looked at the body for a few more moments. "Come on, Bobby," she said softly. "I'll buy you a cup of coffee."

* * *

Sitting in the booth at a nearby diner, well away from the hustle and bustle of their world, Goren reached forward and took her hand. He gently kissed her fingers, which made her smile. He was all about private moments. Out and about where all the world could see, he was very reserved. But when they were alone, he was tender and sweet. She moved her index finger unexpectedly, slipping it past his lips into his mouth. His eyebrows arched in surprise, but he responded by gently sucking her finger. When she slid her finger along his tongue and out of his mouth, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Opening his eyes, he smiled, a small, shy smile. "Can I see you tonight?" he asked softly.

She drew a circle in his palm with her index finger and returned his smile when he caught his breath. "Count on it," she answered, warmed by the heat in his eyes.

The waitress delivered their coffee and they sat in comfortable silence for awhile. Eames thought about the way they'd parted the night before. At home alone with a bottle of wine, she'd come to realize that she was approaching her request the wrong way. Asking him directly was sure to result in a 'no, thank you.' She should have known that. But there was a way to approach him that would get her what she wanted. That was what she needed to do.

"Bobby," she began. "You once told me you would do anything for me."

He nodded. "I remember."

"Well, I need you to be my date Thursday night."

He sat back and folded his hands around his coffee cup. She wasn't surprised to watch him withdraw. With a frown, he said, "Do you realize how uncomfortable it would be for me?"

"Can't you even give them a chance? That's all I'm asking. Just...be with me, that's all, because I want you there."

He looked into his coffee. He felt backed into a corner, trapped with no way out. If he didn't agree, he would be breaking his word to her, and that was something she wouldn't let go. Neither would he. "All right, Eames. I'll go with you." He pushed his cup away. "We really should get back."

He slid out of the booth, dropped several bills on the table and walked away. She felt no surge of triumph that he agreed to go with her to her parents' holiday get-together. Actually, she felt very guilty. _Dammit, Goren. You never make anything easy.  


* * *

_

Goren watched impatiently as Rodgers performed the autopsy on their victim. He felt very restless in the squad room around Eames, still angry that she'd used his promise against him to get her way. Rodgers didn't like having him around much, either, but they hadn't received the medicals on the first two victims and he had to get away from the squad room.

Rodgers appreciated Goren's calm demeanor. Nothing in the autopsy room ever rattled him. She glanced at him as she finished her gross external exam and turned off the recorder. If she had to choose a favorite among the detectives she dealt with regularly, in spite of the problem they'd had over the paternity test he'd asked her to perform, it would be Goren. He was interested in every aspect of his cases, even the part that took place in her morgue. She could always count on his interest, and she was relieved to note the return of his enthusiasm, although he seemed out of sorts at the moment.

Goren hovered behind her as she made her Y incision. "Some breathing space, detective. Please."

"Oh. Sorry."

He backed off a few paces and she smiled. Taking her time with each cut of her blade, she could hear the detective's impatience in his restless shifting. He had an idea of what was there and he was anxious for her to find it. He had a lead to follow and, like a bloodhound who'd picked up the scent, he was eager to be after it.

He never told her what he expected her to find, even when he knew, so she could approach the body with an open mind and not miss anything. She had never known him to compromise a case or risk a conviction. But even though he stood by, waiting silently as she did her job, he was restless. She wondered why he was down here, hovering over her shoulder, and not in the squad room, hovering over his evidence.

After reflecting back the skin from her initial incision, she picked up the three-foot long shears she used to cut the rib cage, giving her access to the heart and lungs. "Plans for Christmas, detective?" she asked, attempting to set him more at ease.

"What?" he answered, distracted from watching her cut through the ribs.

"Do you have any plans for Christmas?"

"Uh, yes. I have plans."

She was glad to hear that, but she gathered from his tone that he wasn't glad for it. _Give a little, get a little, Liz,_ she told herself. "I'll be spending the day with Danny and his boys."

"Is that going well? You and the captain?"

His question surprised her. She expected him to divulge his plans, not keep the focus on her. "Uh, well, yes. Yes, it's going well."

Goren nodded. "I'm glad to hear that."

Rodgers rarely ever asked personal questions of the detectives who came and went through her morgue, but she felt a sudden urge to connect with Goren. "Are you seeing anyone?" she asked.

He was caught off-guard by the question and his restless anxiety increased. He had always felt a kind of haven in the morgue, a place where no one cared about his life or how he lived it. "Uh...y-yes. I am seeing someone."

She dictated her findings of the heart and lungs before picking up a scalpel to remove them from the chest. "What is she like?" she finally asked, when it became obvious he wasn't going to willingly offer any more information.

He wasn't sure how to respond. "She...she's good for me," he answered, uncomfortable with any scrutiny of his private life.

Rodgers respected his discomfort and didn't ask any more questions, but the damage was done. "Call me when you find something, Dr. Rodgers," he said suddenly, moving toward the door. He stopped before leaving and warned, "My private life is not for public discussion."

Then he left. As she had feared, telling Ross about the existence of that paternity test had done irreparable harm to her relationship with Goren. He no longer trusted her with any part of himself, and she felt that loss more strongly than she would have expected. They had moved on, and while he might have forgiven her, he would never trust her again.

* * *

Eames worked at her desk, but she looked up every time the elevator bell rang. Goren had left shortly after they returned from the scene, and she knew it was because he didn't want to be around her at the moment. Perhaps she had played the wrong card in getting him to accompany her to her parents' on Thursday, but she knew that once her family was done with him, he would feel better about his relationship with them. As important as they were to her, she felt strongly about including him in her visits as much as he would allow. Not at all, however, was not a viable option.

She knew he still felt guilty about Nate's kidnapping, and he had not been wrong that her sister had blamed him, too. But he had risked his life to save Nate, and that made everything right with Reggie and Aaron. They could have remained in England, where they were safe, but Goren wanted none of that. They came home for Nate, and they had both expected him to die, a fate he'd made peace with but she had not. She'd dealt with it by stepping into a physical relationship with him. Losing herself in memories of their last hours in England, she remembered with clarity how desperate she had been to burn every moment into her memory--every emotion, every sensation, every look and gesture. He'd accepted everything she had to give and returned more than she ever expected. Closing her eyes, she felt a spark deep inside ignite and begin to spread. Her hands closed into fists as she opened her eyes and looked around the squad room. In the past, she hadn't paid much attention to those around her, beyond her partner and the captain. Now, she had become more sensitive to the reactions Goren got from those around him, and they troubled her. People never took the time to get to know him, and that irritated her. She had to get out of there, or she was going to explode.

Grabbing her coat, she flipped open her phone as she walked to the elevators, dialing his number. When he answered, he sounded tired. "What is it, Eames?"

"Where are you?"

"I needed fresh air."

"Dammit, Goren," she hissed into the phone, using anger to cover her desperation. "Where the hell are you?"

"Down the street, almost at the diner."

"Wait there."

She snapped the phone closed and got onto the elevator.

* * *

He was leaning against a light pole, smoking a cigarette, when she approached him. He put out the cigarette as she grabbed his arm and led him further down the block, away from the headquarters building. "Eames, what's wrong?"

She didn't answer him. Instead she led him around the corner before turning into a small, dark alley. There she spun toward him and, grabbing his coat in both fists, she pulled him down toward her, kissing him hard. Sliding her arms around his neck, she deepened the kiss, easing off the pressure to make it less desperate and more tender.

She overwhelmed him completely, and he could think of nothing but responding to her. Pressing her against the wall, he buried his hand in her hair, seeking a deeper kiss.

When she finally broke away from him, he released her and pressed his forehead against the cold brick of the building he'd pressed her up against. She straightened her hair and clothes, and she brought her breathing under control before she touched him again. "I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely as she laid her hand on his back.

He turned his head to look at her. "Sorry for what?"

"For upsetting you."

He sighed and turned around, leaning his back against the building. Reaching out, he pulled her to him, holding her close in a comfortable, tender embrace. He smoothed his hand over her hair. "I was being stubborn," he admitted. "But I know how much you enjoy the time you spend with your family. I'm afraid I'll ruin that for you. They want to see you, Eames. It doesn't hurt you to spend time with them, away from me."

"But Thursday is special. It's a time for family, and like it or not, as long as we're together, you are part of my family. You should embrace it, because it's something you have never had before."

"That's exactly my point. It's something I've never had before. Never having had it, I'm not likely to miss it."

In her mind, she suddenly understood what he feared most. It wasn't being part of her family. It was being part of that family and then losing it again. Pulling back from his embrace, she looked up at him. "Do you think this is all just temporary?"

He lowered his chin to his chest and looked at the ground. "Nothing is forever, Eames."

"Do you doubt what I feel for you?"

"Honestly? I don't know what to think about it."

"What about how you feel?"

"In the end, that doesn't matter. When you decide to move on, what I feel will be incidental."

Her eyes filled with sudden tears. She hated how he could so readily bring tears to her eyes. He was the only person in the world who made her feel vulnerable, and while she hated feeling that way, she loved him all the more because he could do it. "Why do you always consider yourself incidental?"

He couldn't explain that to her. He was raised in an environment that taught him he did not matter. He had never managed to overcome that. Over the last year of her life, his mother had reinforced that lesson. Only Frank was important. He felt incidental because he _was_ incidental.

In his pocket, his phone rang. He pulled it out. "Goren."

"It's Rodgers. I found something."

"We'll be right there."

He closed the phone and slid it back into his pocket. "That was Rodgers. We have to go."

She grabbed his arm before he could move and held fast. Looking into his eyes, she spoke with all the sincerity she could manage. "You _do_ matter...to me. And that is what counts. I am not going anywhere, Goren. I committed myself to you, and I understand exactly what that means. So unless you have plans to sabotage our relationship, I plan to stay right by your side because that is where I belong."

He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her again. She leaned into his kiss, and they both wanted more, but they ended it before it could escalate out of control. Taking a deep, calming breath, she turned away from him and returned to the street. After a moment he followed her.

* * *

As they walked toward 1 PP, he said, "I don't, you know."

"You don't what?"

"I don't have any plans to sabotage what we have."

"That's good to hear."

After a pause, he said, "It won't be me, Eames. I won't be the one to walk away."

She touched the back of his hand with her fingers, then withdrew. "Then I think we're good...as long as you're willing to work on it when things go off track."

"I'll try. What I have with you is very different than anything I've had before. All I can do is try."

"That's all I'll ask."

They walked the next half block in silence. "It's all right, then," he said without preamble. "Thursday. I'll go with you. But you don't have to go with me to the cemetery."

"I do have a grave to visit...in Queens, not Brooklyn. I can go with you to Holy Cross if you'll come with me to St. Brendan's."

He shook his head. "It's not my place to intrude on the time you spend with Joe."

"Suppose I ask for your support? It would be nice to have a pair of warm arms to comfort me when I visit him. It's still difficult for me. And I would like to do the same for you."

"That's not necessary. I would rather be alone. But if you want me to go with you, I will."

Privately, she felt a guilty sense of relief. She didn't like visiting his mother and brother, not because she didn't want to be there for him, but because of all the negative emotion that stirred within her when she thought of them. He had been devoted to his mother, and she only ever tore him down. His insecurities and negative self image were her handiwork, and she could not forgive Frances for that. And Frank...all he'd ever done was think of himself, not what he was doing to his brother. He was never there for Bobby and only caused his brother pain. She could not pretend to grieve when she honestly believed he was better off without them. Now he really was free to live his own life and not a life for them. He could finally be his own person, and she liked the person he was becoming with her.

Her body was still reeling from their encounter in the alley, as was his, and they were both more than ready to take it further, but the headquarters building loomed ahead of them. They each withdrew behind the walls they erected to protect themselves from the world around them. They had managed to get past most of the barriers the other put up, but the ones they erected at work were not ones they ever tried to breech. They were too close to headquarters to risk any kind of public display of affection with one another, so their only option was to withdraw. They both had plenty of practice at hiding themselves from the world, and that is what they would do until they were alone again.


	3. The Upper Hand

Rodgers was finishing the autopsy as she waited for the two detectives. Eames made it a point to avoid the still-open body on the steel table. Goren, however, walked right over to it, clasped his hands behind his back, and leaned over to look in at the empty cavity of the abdomen. He moved his head around to catch the view from all angles. Eames shook her head, standing well away from the steel table. She did not share her partner's insatiable curiosity of, well, everything.

"What did you find?" he asked.

Amused by his curiosity and interest, Rodgers pointed into the cavity. "See the tumor?"

"Along the spine?"

She smiled at his keen eye. "It appears to be an osteosarcoma. I won't know for certain until I look at it under the microscope, but that's where I'm placing my money. Is that what you were waiting for?"

He looked up at her and his mouth quirked into a grin. "Maybe. I'll let you know after you finish the autopsy."

"You make my life challenging, Goren."

"I do my best, doctor."

Eames grasped his arm without looking down at the victim and steered him toward the door. "Thank you, Dr. Rodgers. We'll be waiting for your report."

Rodgers smiled. She liked that team of partners and she was glad they had worked out their differences. Goren could be difficult, but with Eames around, he was less so. She returned to her work.

* * *

Once they were in the elevator, Goren's excitement became palpable. "Bone cancer. That has to be the connection. We really need those medicals."

"Someone is going around killing cancer patients?"

"I don't think they were patients yet, at least not chemo patients. We'll need a list of the victims' residences, from birth, where they were born, the schools they went to...we have to find what else connects them."

As they stepped off the elevator, she said, "Age—all three of them were 19."

He shook his head and trotted toward the conference room. "There's more to it than that."

Eames went to their desks to see if they'd received the medical records for the first two victims. Grabbing the two large envelopes, she joined her partner in the conference room. "These envelopes aren't very thick," she commented, opening one as he opened the other.

He scanned the pages much more quickly than she did, obviously familiar with reading medical records. She made no comment about that. He tapped a page. "Here...she was diagnosed with osteosarcoma two weeks ago. She was scheduled to be admitted to Sloan-Kettering next week. Her cancer originated at the distal end of the femur, in the knee"

She flipped to the last few pages. "Here...diagnosed the day before Thanksgiving. Scheduled to be admitted to NYU the day after Christmas." She struggled with the writing. "I can't make out this diagnosis."

She handed him the pages. He didn't seem to have to struggle to read. "Osteosarcoma. Hers originated at the proximal end of the humerus...that's the shoulder."

He sat down and began flipping through the records, studying lab reports, pathology reports and x-rays. With a fond smile, Eames left him to his work. She went to her desk to put in a request for their third victim's medical records.

As she hung up the phone, Ross approached her. "Any luck, detective?"

"He thinks he found a connection. The first two victims were newly diagnosed with bone cancer and Dr. Rodgers found a tumor on the spine of the last one. I just requested her medical records. Goren is reviewing the records of the first two."

"Does he know what he's looking at?"

"Better than I do. He's familiar with medical records, but if he has any questions, he'll consult Rodgers."

"Has he figured out a motive?"

"Not yet. We'll get there." She shuffled papers into a file folder and stood up. "I'm glad they didn't kick these to the locals. They never would have tied them together."

Ross watched her cross the room to join her partner. Eames had always been protective of Goren, whether he needed it or not, but he'd noticed more drive behind her protective instinct since the FBI incident. She could have lost him, and he understood that. Perhaps she'd done some reconsidering, reassigning her anger to a more worthy target, the Chief of D's perhaps. He was grateful that he seemed to have avoided that distinction, and, oddly, he was pleased to see that she'd given Goren a break. The guy deserved one.

* * *

As the day drew to a close, Goren was still engrossed in the medical records. Eames had sent out requests for the rest of the information he'd wanted—addresses, schools, birthplaces. She expected that information sometime the next day, along with the medicals from their most recent victim and Rodgers' third autopsy report.

She sat at her desk, gathering her things, as Ross and several other detectives left. She looked toward the conference room where her partner was sequestered with the evidence. She was going to have to pry him from those medical records.

Entering the conference room, she set down her bag. "Ready to go?"

His only reply was a distracted grunt.

She took a glance out the door. The few detectives still there were winding up their day and getting ready to go. None of them were paying any attention to them. So she stepped around the table to stand behind him and dragged her fingers lightly across the back of his neck. He was engrossed in the details of the medical record he was reading and his only reaction was to tip his head forward a little, which made her smile. It was the little things he did without knowing he was doing them that warmed her heart the most.

She leaned over and brought her mouth close to the side of his head. "It's time to go home, Goren," she whispered into his ear, nipping his ear lobe.

That got his attention and he turned his head toward her. She smiled, not pulling back. "Ready to go?" she repeated.

She was smiling, and her soft tone was inviting. That caught him off guard. He hated being off balance at work, with Ross and the chief lurking about. She recognized the flash of unsettled nerves that blazed in his eyes. "Don't worry," she reassured him. "Almost everyone is gone."

His eyes darted around before he took a chance and leaned over to give her a quick kiss. She smiled at him and dipped her head toward the door. "Let's go," she urged, anxious to finish what they'd started earlier.

He gathered the files together, tucked them into his binder and followed her out of the room.

* * *

In the parking garage, she unlocked her car and they got in. As she turned onto the street, she said, "I think we'll go to my place. At least I have food in my fridge."

He had opened his binder and he was once again lost in the case. He was afraid he was missing something while she thought he was looking for evidence they did not yet have. She smiled at his intensity, but she knew there was nothing in the evidence he had that was going to tell him any more than it already had. She slid her hand along the seat back and began to gently play with his ear. Her plan was to distract him, and it worked. Closing the binder, he turned in his seat, watching her in the light of the passing street lamps. Reaching out, he fingered her hair, and he leaned closer to gently blow into her ear, eyes closed. He drew in a deep breath, which made her laugh. He loved the smell of her, which endlessly amused her, but it was her laughter that got to him. She didn't laugh enough, and he cherished every happy noise she made, but more than that, he found it arousing. "Drive faster," he whispered. "Don't worry about getting pulled over. I'm a cop."

She laughed again and moved her head away from his mouth. "I'm more worried about driving into a parked car. Cut it out."

Undeterred, he tickled her waist. She squealed and made an unexpected lane change. "Bobby! If I wrap this car around anything, everyone will find out about us, including the captain!"

He began to unbutton her shirt, ignoring her. She squirmed, unable to stop laughing. Once he got her going, she found it difficult to stop. She pulled over to the side of the street and turned toward him. "Dammit, Goren!" she laughed. "I said stop it."

"Maybe we should go to my place. It's closer."

She fumbled for the door handle. "You drive. I'm not going to be responsible for driving off the bridge into the river."

He got out of the car and met her as she came around the front of the car, pulling her into a hug. She turned her face up toward his, trying not to notice the fire in his eyes. "It's cold out here. Let's get back in the car," she whispered, shivering, but not from the cold.

"Let me warm you up," he murmured as he brought his mouth closer to hers.

As he teased her mouth with his, he tugged at her shirt where it gathered at her waist, seeking to free it from her pants. Shifting her hips away from his roaming hands, once again laughing, she wriggled from his embrace. "Stop," she insisted, knowing it was impossible to carry any authority while giggling like a schoolgirl. "Get in the car and drive."

She hurried to the passenger door as she refastened and readjusted her shirt. Smiling, his eyes followed her and he groaned. Trotting to the other side of the car, he slid behind the wheel, adjusted the seat and the mirrors, and pulled away from the curb.

* * *

Eames lay stretched out on top of her partner, lingering in a delicious twilight between alertness and slumber. Her fingers trailed lazily up and down his side. She shivered as he stroked her back. "Thank you," she murmured, kissing his chest.

Lazily, she circled his nipple with her tongue. He hummed quietly and locked his hands behind her waist, kissing her neck. "Thank you for what?" he asked against her skin.

She shivered. "For agreeing to come with me Thursday. It means a lot to me."

"I hope you don't regret it."

She pulled back to see his face. "What makes you say that?"

"Just an honest thought. I am not used to being around a lot of people in a social setting. It's going to be very uncomfortable for me. And after what happened with Nate...that will just make it worse."

"You mean saving his life," she asked, unable to keep a hint of temper from her tone.

He began to withdraw from her. "If it hadn't been for me, he wouldn't have needed saving. They used him to get to me. That's with me every day, Eames."

"Can't you let anything go?" she snapped. "He's fine now. He wasn't hurt and the psychological trauma was minimal. He's happy and he's excited that you're going to be joining us. Doesn't that count for anything?"

She slid off his body and searched the dim room for her clothes. While she was amused that they hadn't made it to the bedroom, she was annoyed at his stubborn insistence on focusing on the negative all the time. If her sister could get past it and see the good he'd done, why couldn't he?

He sat up and pulled on his boxers. Locating her shirt, he stuffed it behind him, wedging it between his back and the couch. Silently, he watched her search the room. Finally, she turned on the light, standing in the center of the room, holding the clothes she'd recovered. "Where the hell is my damn shirt?"

He arched his brow, giving her an innocent look. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Goren, give me my shirt."

"Come on, Eames. Don't be mad at me."

She pointed an accusing finger at him. "You are so damn frustrating!"

"I know. It's a gift."

She opened her mouth to say something, but then he smiled. She could not find enough anger to firmly grip and hold onto. His ability to so completely disarm her was a new aspect of their changed relationship. "I can't even be mad at you right any more," she complained.

"Do you still want your shirt?" he asked, a different kind of smile on his face.

"Yes, but only because I'm cold. You do realize the thermostat has settings above fifty, don't you?"

"I like it on the cool side," he answered, his gaze settling on her chest. "Especially now."

She walked toward him with her hand out for her shirt, trying to ignore the desire in his eyes until she got her shirt. She dropped her clothes on the couch beside him. "Yeah. I remember what a big deal it was for me to get you to close the bedroom window once the temperature got below forty."

He reached out and grasped her hand, pulling her down into his lap. "If I recall, you don't complain too much about my choice of ways to keep you warm."

He nuzzled her neck and tickled her bare waist, above the band of her pants, making her laugh again. "My shirt," she insisted, trying to get herself under control. Sometimes, she hated the ease with which he could make her forget herself.

"I don't mean to upset you," he said, burying his face between her breasts.

He kissed his way to one nipple, then worked his way to the other. Closing her eyes, she softly moaned, arching her back. "Promise me..." she said, trying to keep her voice even when his hand began stroking her thigh. "P-Promise...you'll at least try...oh...do that again..."

Smiling against her skin, he moved his hand between her thighs, pleased by the soft noises of pleasure she began to make. "What do you want me to try?" he asked, his breath heating her skin.

"God, that's the wrong question to ask me right now."

He laughed and twisted his hand to the right. She gasped, then kissed him hard and wrestled him back onto the couch. He offered no resistance. Once he was pinned beneath her, she shifted her position so her thoughts would once again surface in her mind. "Promise me," she said, just a bit breathy. "Promise you'll at least try to have fun Thursday."

He nodded, freeing his hand from where she had trapped it between her legs. "I promise I will," he said, resuming his search for just the right place to apply pressure.

She gasped when he found it, and her hips jerked against him. "Not fair," she groaned.

"Very fair," he replied. "I need the upper hand in at least one area."

"What makes you think...oh..." Closing her eyes, she melted against him, then started shifting her hips.

"Yeah," he smiled. The upper hand was his, and she was happy to let him have this one.


	4. Understanding Superman

No matter where they spent the night, if they spent it together, they always left at different times the following morning. The routine was well established by now. He would get up first, shower and dress, make the coffee and kiss her good-bye. His tender kiss was her wake-up call, and she would go through her own routine. Then she would turn off the near-empty coffee pot and leave.

He was well into his files when she arrived. She found him in the conference room, writing on the white board. She scanned the columns: birthplace, hometown, schools. Standing behind him, she read the information he'd written under each column. Thinking aloud, she said, "They were all born in the city..."

"At different hospitals," he said.

"But Groton...They were all raised in Groton, Connecticut."

He stepped back and studied the board. "Different schools, which means they were raised in different neighborhoods..."

He returned to the files, slowly lowering himself into a chair as he shuffled through the papers he had spread out over the table. "They were all students at Hudson," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "They lived in the same neighborhood in the city. But the connection is deeper. It has to be."

After studying the whiteboard in silence for a few moments, he trotted out of the room, returning with a map of the city. Tacking it up on the wall, he grabbed a marker and placed an 'X' over each location where the bodies were found. "Different precincts. He was counting on separate investigations that would not connect the victims."

He was reviewing the things they already knew, which was part of his ritual in connecting the dots. He had to bring the thoughts out of his head, and sharing them with her was his preferred way to do that. "We need to talk to the families, to get information on their health as children. I need to know more about their family life."

They both looked up as Ross entered the room. "We received a call about another victim that could be related to your case, but there are enough differences that I thought I would leave it to you to decide if it actually is related. If not, you can kick it to the locals."

"What differences?" Goren asked.

"The victim was found in the dorms at Hudson, strangled."

"That matches our case—all three victims were Hudson students and they were strangled," Eames pointed out.

"But this victim is male," Ross added.

Goren's brow furrowed. "We shouldn't discount this one because of gender. I don't think gender is an underlying factor. We need to take a look at the scene and let Rodgers examine the body."

Ross nodded, accepting his decision when Eames nodded concurrence. "I'll let Hudson know you'll be there shortly."

As the two detectives left the room, Goren muttered, "We're never going to get anywhere if we keep adding new victims."

"Maybe that's part of the master plan," Eames suggested.

"Then we have to step it up. I don't want a mountain of young bodies before we find this guy."

"You're the bloodhound. You point and I'll follow."

They stepped into the elevator. "I still think the cancer is what ties them all together."

"Suppose this death is coincidental?"

"We do what Ross said. If we find out it's not related, we kick it to the locals."

"Can you do that?"

"Hopefully, we won't have to find out."

She couldn't help smiling. He wanted to save the world, and it was deeply frustrating to him that he couldn't. "Superman," she said softly.

He crooked a brow. "Excuse me?"

"Superman. You have a superman complex. You want to save the world, but you can't, and that's not acceptable to you. Maybe that's why our solve rate is so high, because you don't just want to solve our cases. You _need _to solve them. There is no middle ground and failure isn't an acceptable option for you."

They stepped out of the elevator into the parking garage. "Call it a character flaw," he said.

She smiled as she pulled out her keys. "Not at all. I wish I had a 'connect-the-dots' kind of mind, like you do."

They got into the car. "It's not what you think, Eames. That's not how I figure things out. It's more than progressing from 'A' to 'B' and so on. I know what they think because I understand _how_ they think. I know that you hate Declan Gage, and I understand that. Believe me, I do. But years ago, he was...different. He saw the potential in me to turn either way and be brilliant at it, and he made me into a cop instead of a criminal. I can't say I would have done that myself if he had not guided me. I...understand the criminal mind because I have it in me to think like one. I have that capacity, and it was Gage that turned me from it." He tapped his fingers restlessly on his knee. "I can't help but think that I became what I am to atone for the sins of my father, to give back something of what he took away. That's not...a bad thing, is it?"

She reached out and stroked his knee. "No, Bobby. It's not a bad thing. Not at all."

He watched her fingers move over the fabric of his pants and he focused on the contact. "Don't you have a hard time with it?" he asked quietly, afraid of her answer but needing to hear it.

"With what?" she asked, looking from her hand to his face.

He placed his hand over hers, entwining his fingers with hers. "With my parentage. I'm the son of a schizophrenic and a serial killer. I was born with three strikes against me."

She didn't look away. "Nature versus nurture."

"By all accounts, I should be a criminal. I was not nurtured to overcome my parentage."

"I have no issues with the man you are when you're with me. Something happened to turn you into a good man."

"Yes. Declan Gage. I suppose, in a lot of ways, I overcompensate. Maybe I am closer to the edge than I'd like to be. But I think I have a good anchorage. I have you."

She smiled and tucked her thumb between their hands to stroke his palm. "I'll hold on tight and never let go," she said earnestly.

He looked into her eyes and she fell into his. Forgetting where they were for a moment, he moved closer and kissed her, a sweet and tender kiss that lingered.

When he drew back, she remembered to breathe. "We-we'd better get to Hudson," she managed to say around the lump in her throat.

He nodded and leaned back in his seat, looking out the window as she pulled out of the parking spot. _Never let go_, she'd said...and he believed her.

* * *

Eames talked to campus police while Goren examined the body. He was young, just like the other three victims, strangled in the same manner. He was dressed only in boxers, and his body was tanned and well muscled. When Eames joined him, he said, "Whoever did this surprised him. No defensive wounds; no sign of a struggle."

"Maybe he knew his killer?"

"Maybe...there were no defensive wounds or signs of a struggle with the other victims, either. What are the chances..." He stopped. "What _are_ the chances?"

He stood and moved to the boy's desk, sifting through the mail that had been left there. Finding what he was looking for, he held it up. "This case is ours, Eames."

"What's that?"

"A letter from home. The return address is Groton, Connecticut."

"That's four victims inside of a week, all from the same hometown. I agree with you that it's not a coincidence."

After completing their examination of the crime scene and leaving instructions for the body to be brought to Rodgers, Goren and Eames left the dorms.

* * *

Eames entered the conference room and dropped a notepad on the desk. "We aren't going to get the information we need until Monday. Everyone is closing shop early tomorrow and naturally no one will be around on Christmas."

Goren looked up from the stack of papers in front of him. Annoyance flickered across his face as he processed her news. Then he muttered under his breath and returned to his papers. She watched him jotting notes in his binder before she sat beside him. "Have you found anything?"

"I've found a lot of things. I'm just not sure what is significant yet. I need more family background and the pediatricians' records."

"I was able to find out that all four victims saw the same pediatrician as kids. I talked to the office and convinced them to send us copies of each victim's record, but we won't get them before Monday. Their offices close in forty-five minutes for the rest of the week."

"I hate being stalled," he complained. "People I can get around. But the holiday..."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and our killer will take the holiday off. Maybe he'll spend it with the wife and kids instead of stalking teenagers from Connecticut in the city. And the kids from out-of-town will probably go home until after the New Year, too."

"We can hope," he replied, almost lightly.

With a smile, she gave his shoulder a quick rub and left the room. He watched her leave, then turned his attention back to the papers in front of him.

* * *

It was nearly eight when Eames returned to the conference room. "Are you done for the day?"

"Uh, not quite."

"I'm going to go home, then. I'll pick you up tomorrow, around four. Okay?"

"I'll be ready. Have a good night."

She held his gaze for a moment, then smiled. "Good night, Bobby."

Again, he watched her leave the room. He was pleased with the course his relationship with Eames was taking. She was at ease with him, even when he got a little rough, which he tried to keep in check. She understood him and supported him without qualification. In her own words, she loved him.

His own feelings were harder to sift through. She was more important to him than anyone in the world, and in his own way, he did love her. But he was afraid that her definition of love and his were not the same, so he hesitated to put his feelings into words. He knew what he felt, but he was not certain just what the words were supposed to mean. He had never been taught the correlation between words and emotion. He was counting on Eames to teach him, and she was, even if she was not aware that she was doing it.


	5. A Good Start

**A/N: I tried to have the Christmas Eve portion of my tale done by Christmas, but it just did not work out that way. For that I apologize. I decided to divide the Eames gathering into more than one chapter, so here is the first one with belated Christmas wishes for everyone.**

* * *

Goren spent the next morning in Manhattan. He already had a gift for Nate and something for Eames' parents, even though she'd told him it was unnecessary. What he was having trouble with was finding something for her. He'd been thinking about it for weeks, and he still had no idea what to get her. So he walked the streets of midtown, looking in the windows and hoping for inspiration.

As noon approached, he walked into a small but busy jewelry store. Taking his time, he walked around the people who were milling around, looking at the displays. At the back of the store, as he stepped around a newlywed couple, his eye caught a piece that drew him to it. He braced his hands on the display case as he studied it, unaware that one of the clerks had approached him. "May I help you, sir?"

He looked up into a pretty young face. "Would you show me this piece here?"

She looked into the display, opening the case and removing the necklace. It was simple but elegant, a double heart. The outer heart was lined with sapphires and the inner heart was lined with rubies. A single diamond solitaire rested at the juncture of the two hearts. "White gold?"

"Yes, sir. 18 carat. The chain is white gold, too."

He looked back into the case, at a pair of earrings. They were open hearts with alternating rubies and sapphires except for the last stone, which was a diamond. "The earrings beside them...They go with it?"

"They do if you want them to," she smiled. "And I can give you a discount on the set. Thirty per cent off."

Even with the discount, he knew the set would take a bite out of his meager resources, but Eames was well worth it. He nodded. "I'll take the set."

Ten minutes later, he left the store with the necklace and earrings tucked in his pocket. He felt good about it, certain Eames was going to love them.

* * *

After showering and shaving, he chose a dark blue suit with a light blue shirt and a blue and maroon tie he knew Eames liked. He was in the process of tying his tie when he heard her knock on the door and then open it. "I'll be right out," he called.

"Take your time. I'm a little early."

He finished with his tie, pulled on his jacket and walked out into the living room as he slipped his tie clip into place. Looking up as he came into the room, he stopped and stared at his partner.

She was standing by one of the bookcases, looking at a picture of him and his brother as kids. She wore a flowing, dark green skirt that ended just below the top of the black, spiked-heel boots she loved to wear. For his part, he loved to watch her walk in heels. Her hips swayed very differently in higher heels, a way that was distracting for him, to say the least. Above her waist, she wore a red turtleneck beneath a white shirt which was tucked into the waist of her skirt and buttoned halfway, open from just below the swell of her breasts. On the neck of her turtleneck, offset to the right, she'd placed a gold Christmas wreath pin, accented with rubies and emeralds. The little makeup she wore was just enough and she wore her hair up, which he found very alluring, even with the turtleneck covering her sexy neck. He caught the scent of her perfume, and he closed his eyes, remembering the last time she'd worn it. Aroused, he felt himself stir and he opened his eyes to find her holding the picture.

With a wistful smile, she set it back on the shelf and looked at him. Her eyes glowed and she smiled as she approached him. Reaching out, she smoothed his tie before buttoning his suit jacket. Then she turned her face toward his. With her heels on, she didn't have to reach up so far to kiss him.

He pulled her body against his, cradling her head as he ran the tip of his tongue over her lips, seeking entry. Her lips parted and he accepted her welcome with a soft groan.

Reluctantly, she broke the kiss and pressed her cheek against his shoulder, unwilling to step from his embrace right away. Her face was flushed and she felt breathless. "We should be going. They're expecting us around five."

"You smell great," he murmured against her neck, taking another deep breath.

He nuzzled her, turning her head so he could kiss her again, and she almost let him overwhelm her. She withdrew again and this time, she stepped back from his arms. "Save it for later," she said, her voice full of promise.

He watched her pick up her coat from the back of the recliner. He took it from her and held it while she slipped into it. Gently, he slid his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, leaning in to kiss the hollow below her ear. "You're beautiful," he whispered, his breath caressing her skin and teasing a stray tendril of hair.

"Thank you," she answered with a shiver. "You're quite an eyeful yourself."

With more self-control than he thought he had, he moved away from her and pulled on his overcoat. _Is this love?_ he wondered, knowing that it was more than sex he wanted. Last night, he laid awake half the night, missing her, and it had nothing to do with sex. He'd never felt like that about a woman before. He'd always thought she was special, but he had known for certain the first time he'd slept with her after recovering from being shot, after their lives had returned to normal. He had stayed the night. After the sex, he'd gone to sleep and stayed until morning. He never stayed. After sex, he always went home, but with her he didn't want to leave.

Two weeks later, she'd joined him in his bed, also something he never did. He couldn't leave if a woman was in his bed, so he'd never put himself in that situation. With Eames, he had not given it a thought until much later, as she slept against his side. He gave no thought to seeking an escape; he _wanted _to sleep with her in his arms. Yet, _love _still had not entered his mind. He had never associated sex with love...until now. Now, he wondered if they were both part of the same wonderful package that was Alex Eames.

His thoughts crashed down around him when her lips suddenly brushed over his again. His eyes cleared and he tipped his head to the left as she smiled and said, "There you are. Where'd you go?"

He shook his head. "Not far. I'm sorry."

"Penny for your thoughts?"

_Not for a million dollars,_ he decided. "We're going to be late."

She let him get away with putting her off, for the moment. He picked up a plain brown paper shopping bag and opened the door, holding it for her.

"What's in the bag?" she asked.

"Just a couple of things I picked up for your parents and for Nate."

"I told you that you didn't have to do that."

"I know. I wanted to."

With a smile, she kissed his cheek and walked through the door. Following her, he stopped to lock the door. The first fifteen minutes of the evening had gone extremely well and that boded well for the rest of the night.

* * *

As they approached Seaford, where Eames' parents lived, Goren's anxiety increased. He fidgeted nervously, tapping his fingers on his knee. Eames reached over and closed her hand over his. "Relax. They aren't going to attack you."

"Everyone will be there?"

"Yes." She felt his anxiety jump up a notch. "Look," she said, seeking to settle his nerves. "You know my parents and they like you. You are welcome in their home. You know my sister and her husband, too, and I swear on a stack of Bibles that they think you can walk on water since you saved Nate's life. They found out that the kidnappers had orders to kill you both. But I was able to bring Nate home to them."

"That wasn't because of me. That was because of the backup I had."

"Not entirely. Nate survived because you protected him. You took several bullets for their son. That's what matters to them, and to the rest of the family. Bobby, if you start to debate with them about whether you saved him or not, I swear I will knock the crap out of you. Save your debates for me."

Since his new goal in life was to not piss off his partner if humanly possible because she really could make his life a living hell, he nodded. "I'll behave."

With a smile, she rubbed his knee and continued, "You also know my brother Kevin. I think you even got drunk with him once, didn't you?"

"I'd rather not discuss that."

She laughed. "That's probably smart, especially since I don't think Mom ever found out about it. The rest of the family is mostly children. I only have two more brothers you haven't met, and they have good opinions of you. I'm not worried about their wives because you can charm any woman." In fact, she had bets with her brothers that come the end of the night, her partner would have more than a few more fans, and not just among the children. "Just be your charming self, Bobby. Try to relax and have a good time. You promised, remember?"

His attention diverted to her hand, which moved from his knee to caress his thigh. He trembled at her light touch. "If...If you keep that up, we're going to be late...and I'm afraid you'll have to re-do your hair...and, uh, and your makeup..."

With another light laugh, she moved her hand and, with a light stroke down the side of his face, returned it to the steering wheel. His nerves had settled some, and he looked out the window, seeking some distraction to help him settle his body.

* * *

By the time they arrived at John and Helen Eames' home, he had composed himself and managed to rein in most of his nervous energy. Eames found a place to park two houses down from her parents' and counted the cars. "Looks like almost everyone is here," she said. "I think...yeah, Kevin's not here yet, but he's always the last one to arrive. That's how we all gauge being late. As long as we get here before Kevin, we're on time."

She walked around to the trunk and opened it. Goren arched his eyebrows in surprise at the number of presents in the trunk. He could not remember ever seeing that many gifts under the tree when he was growing up...when there was a tree. He remembered the year 'they' tried to hide a bomb under the tree and all the presents ended up in a bathtub full of water. The holidays had been a difficult time for his mother, and he'd grown up dreading them. That had not changed.

Eames handed him a big box and she pulled two large bags of gifts out of the trunk, slamming it closed with her elbow. He followed her down the sidewalk and up the walk to the porch. The door flew open and Reggie hurried out to greet them. "Alex!"

Reggie hugged her sister and took one of the bags from her before she turned to Goren. "We're so happy you decided to join us, Bobby."

Alex had warned her that he was naturally shy at social gatherings and had been reluctant to accompany her. She also cautioned that the first of her siblings to embarrass him would be made an example of. "You weren't so protective of Joe," Reggie had teased.

"Joe knew how to hold his own with a big family. I'm not so sure how Bobby will react, so if you ever want to see him again, you'll warn the Three Stooges to behave."

Reggie smiled at her sister's big partner. He was still two steps down from the porch deck, and she leaned over to kiss his cheek, something he'd not expected. He kissed her cheek in return, clearly uncomfortable with such open displays of affection from other people.

Reggie motioned for them to follow her into the house and said, "The kids are still playing in the backyard with Dad, Aaron, Mark and Brian. Sally, Lois and I are helping Mom in the kitchen. Kevin is running late."

With a laugh, Eames said, "For Kevin, that's on time."

As they stepped through the door, Goren placed his hand against the small of his partner's back, then he helped her off with her coat. Reggie set the bag down by the tree. "Go ahead and put the presents under the tree. I'll take your coats."

Goren slipped out of his overcoat and handed both coats to Reggie. He helped Eames place her gifts under the tree, then added his to them. Before he got back to his feet, she leaned in and kissed him. He placed his hand on her side until she withdrew and gave him a smile. "Come on into the kitchen. One of Dad's favorite holiday traditions is his egg nog."

He followed her into the kitchen, where he received a huge hug from Helen Eames and an introduction to Eames' two sisters-in-law. Sally, who was married to Brian and very pregnant with their fourth child, handed him a glass of egg nog with a smile. "John makes this from scratch."

Helen smiled. "He's inordinately proud of it."

Offering Sally a smile, Goren thanked her as he accepted the glass. Lois, Mark's wife and the mother of three children under the age of four, offered him a sliver of turkey. "Here, Bobby, try this."

Not wanting to be rude, he accepted the turkey. Eames smiled at the familiar look of concentration on his face as he focused on the flavors in his mouth. "Cranberries and, uh...oranges?"

Lois smiled, delighted. "We used a cranberry infusion and a cranberry-orange glaze."

Sally was also delighted. "And there are cranberries and orange peel in the stuffing."

"It's delicious," he assured them.

Helen took his arm and said, "Why don't you go outside with John and the boys? All the children are out there. Nate has been so looking forward to seeing you, and he has all his cousins excited, too."

He glanced at Eames, who gave him a glowing smile. Reassured, he accepted another hug from Helen and squeezed her gently. The five women watched him until he disappeared through the sliding glass door onto the back deck. "I am so glad he came with you, Alex," Helen said, kissing her younger daughter's cheek. "I have always hated the thought of him being home all by himself on Christmas."

With a smile, Eames answered, "I think it's more stressful for him to be around all these people. He's used to being alone."

"He's never been married?" Lois asked.

Eames shook her head as she washed her hands. "No. Never. The only family he had were his mother and his brother, and they're both gone now."

"Oh, sad," commented Sally.

Eames took the lid off a pot of cooking potatoes and tested them to see if they were cooked. "Don't feel sorry for him, Sal. He doesn't."

_Not usually, anyway,_ she added to herself.

Lois pulled a colander from a cabinet. "Well, I'm glad he came along with you. Are you happy with him, Al?"

Eames smiled as she drained the potatoes into the colander in the sink. She looked at her mother as she set the pot aside. Helen looked as interested in her answer as the others. "Yes, I am. Even more than I expected I would be."

Sally asked, "How does he measure up to Joe?"

She tried not to resent the question because she expected it. In the past, boyfriends never lasted because they never measured up to her memories of Joe. Goren was the first one to have gotten past that. "He's very different from Joe in a 'no comparison' way. They're both cops and that's where the similarities cease. I...I am finally healing. I'm happy with Bobby, and he's good for me. I will always love Joe, but with Bobby, I finally feel myself moving on."

She got the butter from the refrigerator, and she felt right inside about what she'd just said. It was the truth. Two-and-a-half years ago, he had reluctantly opened old wounds. Now he was the salve that healed those wounds and helped her salvage the part of her that she had not buried with Joe.

When she saw his smile with her mind's eye and listened to the echo of his warm laughter in her memory, she felt a surge of desire wash over her, and she wanted him.

It was going to be a very long evening.


	6. Christmas Blessings

**A/N: I made a little shift in this chapter. It just didn't seem right to refer to everyone by their first names except for Goren and Eames. So...I dropped the last names for the Eames family Christmas gathering. It's only fair...**

**It's a long chapter, covering the rest of Christmas Eve at John and Helen Eames' home. I hope it's been worth the wait and the effort I put into it. As always, it's nice to hear from any and all of you, so thank you for the feedback, those of you who have taken the time to drop me a line :-) Enjoy!**

**Happy 2010 to everyone!  
**

**

* * *

**

Alex looked out the window as she mashed the potatoes with butter and salt. She watched the children drag her partner out into the snow. In spite of the fact that he was wearing a suit, with no coat on, he let them wrestle him to the ground. Then he chased them, but he never caught them. They were delighted.

Reggie looked over her sister's shoulder. "He's good with them."

"Yes, he is."

Lois also looked out the window. "He's in a suit," she said, being practical.

With a smile, Alex answered, "I don't think he cares. He can clean his suit, but time with children is precious. He'll do anything those kids ask him to do and not think twice about it."

Alex set the potatoes with the other serving bowls that were ready. She reflected that he'd needed an adult like the man he had become when he was growing up, but he had no one. So he understood how vital loving adults were to children--to all children. She guessed that was the reason why he was always patient and kind with children, especially children who needed to see kindness in an adult face.

As Lois and Sally carried the serving bowls to the dining room, she checked on the turkey as her mother stirred the gravy. "You're lucky to have him, Alex," Helen said with affection.

"I know I am, Mom," she assured the older woman. _If only I could convince him that I am._

"Did he know Joe?"

"He was working Narcotics when Joe was killed but I don't think he knew him. I know he heard what happened. He may have even attended Joe's funeral. But he's always been careful to keep himself distanced from my memories of Joe."

"He's a smart man."

Alex smiled. "You have no idea, Mom. But more than smart, he cares about me, and he doesn't want me to associate him with such a painful time in my life...at least not any more than I do."

An irrational part of her still harbored some resentment toward him for re-opening Joe's murder case, even though, rationally, she knew it had to be done. The sliding door opened and interrupted their talk. The house was suddenly flooded with happy voices and laughter as the children streamed in from the yard. The deeper voices and laughter of the men mixed with the children's chatter.

Alex and Helen looked out from the kitchen. Alex wasn't surprised to see Bobby carrying 15-month-old Krissy, her youngest niece, who was smiling at him beneath the thumb she had in her mouth. Instead of conversation with the other men, his attention was focused on the baby, who giggled when he tickled her belly. Her heart swelled when Krissy tried to tickle him and he laughed for her. He had claimed another heart.

The children hurried off to the family room to play and watch television, and when Bobby set Krissy on the floor, she waved and ran after her siblings and cousins. The men followed the children, except for John and Bobby, who worked together to start a fire in the fireplace. Kevin arrived before they had the fire going. John jumped up to greet the youngest of his children and Bobby shook his hand when he came over to greet him. After hanging up his coat, Kevin went to the kitchen to say hello to his mother and his sisters, along with Sally and Lois, as well as to grab a glass of egg nog and nab a roll, fresh out of the oven.

As Bobby and John returned to the fire, Nate approached and stood between them. He rested against Bobby, and the big man slipped his arm around the boy's slender frame. When Nate sneezed, Bobby pulled a clean, folded handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the little boy's runny nose. Nate smiled, then took the offered handkerchief with a delighted laugh.

From the kitchen doorway, Alex watched her partner as he kept her father company and tended to her favorite nephew. Behind Alex, Reggie made a small noise. "Look at him. He's so gentle."

"Yes, he is," Alex answered with a smile as she watched him tuck the handkerchief into the pocket of Nate's jeans.

Grinning, Nate hugged Bobby, then scurried off to rejoin his cousins, and his father and uncles, all of whom had invaded the kitchen for egg nog before subjecting themselves to _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_, _Frosty the Snowman_ and _Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer_.

Sally retrieved a stack of dishes from the china cabinet, and Alex hurried over to help her. The sudden flurry of activity drew Bobby's attention from the fire. Lois came out of the kitchen with two glasses of egg nog, one for Bobby and one for John. John's face lit up. "Thank you, darling! Drink up, my boy. It's not Christmas without this concoction!"

With a laugh, Bobby took a drink, moving his position so he could see into the dining room. He watched Alex and Sally set the table. John nudged him. He'd been drinking his egg nog since earlier that afternoon and he was ready to have a talk with Bobby about his daughter. "I love my children very much," he said. "But that Alex...she was worse than her brothers when she was a teenager. She gave us hell. But the proudest day of my life was the day she graduated from the Academy. She broke my heart when she had to bury Joe. And now, it's so good to see her happy again."

Bobby kept his attention on the dining room, where Alex was laughing with Sally and Reggie. "Do you really think she's happy?"

"I have known her all her life. She tries to hide from the world, but she can't hide from me. She's been on a roller coaster since she lost Joe, but the last four months have been different. She's gotten off that roller coaster in favor of a better ride, a calmer, more stable one. Lately, you have been able to remind her that Joe is the one who died, that her life goes on and it can be a good, happy life. It's been refreshing to see."

Bobby watched her interacting with family. She was a different person around them—more open and at ease. He had noticed other changes in her since they'd gotten close, and he felt reassured. She still lost her patience with him, and she still got angry with him, but it was different than it used to be. She dealt with her anger in a different way and, although he still tried to avoid upsetting her, he no longer felt panic or a fear of losing her when she was mad. He felt secure with her in a way he'd never felt with another person. He wondered if that security was simply a product of the familiarity with each other they had developed over the years of their partnership, or if it might possibly be part of being in love. Security was an unfamiliar feeling for him, and he gave it a lot of thought, trying to determine its source.

John watched him for a few minutes, trying to interpret the look on his face as he watched Alex with the other women in the kitchen and dining room. "Do you love my daughter, Bobby?"

"I...I don't know, Mr. Eames. I care about her very much. I would die for her. She's all I have. But...I don't know what it means to be in love. I'm still trying to figure that out."

John placed a hand on his shoulder. "That was an honest answer. I appreciate that. Just promise me that you'll keep trying, and once you figure it out, never let her go."

"I'm not a quitter, sir. And I don't want her to go anywhere."

"Excellent! Now, let's go check on dinner! I'm starving!"

* * *

Dinner was a noisy, happy affair, and something Bobby was not used to being around. He hadn't experienced a meal like that in many years, not since his Army days. The bright room, the Christmas lights flashing in the windows, the huge homecooked meal, the noise... All of his senses were assaulted from every direction, and he was overwhelmed. He struggled to turn within, to bring himself down to a level of stimulation he could handle, without much success.

He watched Alex as she smiled and talked and laughed, contributing to the surrounding din. He couldn't remember ever seeing her like that. She was unguarded and _happy_. He pondered that as he ate his meal and drank from a wineglass that never seemed to empty.

The children finished eating first and they scrambled into the living room to gather impatiently around the tree, waiting for Grandpa John to pass out the presents. Without touching anything, they looked at the colorful gifts, searching for their own names on the packages.

Bobby was one of the first of the adults to finish eating. He excused himself and set his dishes in the sink as he finally found the bottom of his wineglass. Standing in the doorway, he watched the excited kids as they buzzed around the tree like a bunch of busy bees. Quietly, he slipped out onto the back deck, where he lit a cigarette and tried to calm his frayed nerves before anyone noticed he was tense. He was only out there a short time before the door opened again and Alex joined him.

She watched him turn away from the yard toward her. She realized that the dinner had been difficult for him, and she could see his tension. "It _is _a bit much, isn't it?" she asked as she approached him, hesitant. She did not want to contribute to his discomfort.

He watched her, trying to decipher her uncertainty. "I'm just...not used to it," he replied, trying to sound reassuring.

"It does take some adjusting...if you're willing to give it that time."

He took a drag on his cigarette. After he put it out, she stepped closer, and he gathered her into a warm hug. She rested her head on his chest and slipped her arms inside his suit jacket. "Have a few more glasses of Dad's egg nog. It'll help get you through the rest of the evening. I don't think a single one of my brothers has ever left one of these gatherings sober. I'm surprised Kevin didn't give you that helpful hint."

He was definitely buzzed, and that did help him better handle the overstimulation caused by the boisterous clan. "I haven't had much chance to talk to Kevin."

"Don't think my father or my older brothers handle this much better than you do," she said with a smile. "They have a big head start on you and Kev."

They stood together in the silence of the winter night. In spite of the cold, she didn't want to move, but she realized her sister, if no one else, would come searching for her before too long. "I'd better get back in there before I'm missed. Come on back in when you feel you're ready."

She stepped away from him and the cold assaulted her. She hurried toward the house.

"Oh, hold on for a second," he called to her. He pulled out his wallet and handed her a stack of gift cards, mostly from Toys 'R' Us. "I, uh, I know Nate, but I don't know your other nieces and nephews. I didn't want to leave them out."

She looked at the cards, each with a child's name on it. He hadn't forgotten anyone. There were also gift cards from _The Olive Garden_ for each couple among her siblings and one for Kevin from _Home Depot_. "Bobby...you can't afford this..."

"Sure I can. I was saving up for a rainy, er, well, a snowy day. Here it is."

"I told you that you didn't have to..."

He brushed his lips across hers, silencing her. Sliding her arms around his neck, she gave him a kiss that made his head spin. "You never cease to amaze me," she whispered before pulling back from his embrace.

"I hope that's a good thing."

"It's a very good thing." She nodded her head toward the house. "Do you need more time or are you ready?"

"I suppose I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

Taking his hand, she led him toward the sliding door, but he stopped suddenly and pulled her back to him. "Will you come home with me tonight?" he whispered against her head, afraid he wouldn't have another chance to ask her once they returned to the commotion of the family gathering.

Her entire body shivered as his breath breezed past her ear, warm and laced with cigarette, wine and whiskey-loaded egg nog. "Do you have plans?" she asked, her tone light and teasing.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her against his body. In spite of the cold night air, she felt warm. His mouth remained by her ear and he answered, "I do, if you'll consent to stay the night with me."

He nuzzled her neck and teased her ear with his tongue. The effort it took her to contain herself surprised her. "Yes," she answered, breathy. Her mind was devoid of any other words and she turned in his arms, allowing his lips to slide across hers once more as she welcomed his tongue into her mouth.

The door slid open but neither of them noticed. Kevin stepped out onto the cold, snowy deck. Smiling, he looked up at the bright, overcast sky. "Hey, look. Snow."

Alex stepped back from her surprised and clearly embarrassed partner's arms. Sure enough, it had begun to snow. "I hadn't noticed," she said as she gave Bobby's hand a calming squeeze.

"What a surprise," Kevin responded with a chuckle.

Smoothing her hands over her shirt and casting a reassuring look at Bobby that held the promise of more to come, she punched Kevin in the shoulder as she passed him and went into the house.

Laughing, Kevin held out a glass to Bobby. "Fresh glass of liquid fortifier," he offered.

Bobby grinned, still embarrassed. "Thanks."

The youngest Eames looked up at him. "Relax, buddy. If we were sixteen, I might hit you for kissing my sister, but we're adults...and if I hit you, she'd clobber me. I am very close to Alex, and I want to see her happy. When she's with you, that's exactly what I see."

Bobby looked out across the snowy yard. By morning, it would have a new blanket of fresh snow. "I do my best."

Kevin heard the sincerity in his voice, and he smiled. "Al can be difficult—and very stubborn, but I'm sure you know that by now. I think, with you, she has finally found whatever it was she's needed to move on after losing Joe. I wasn't always sure, Bobby, but now I know you're good for her."

"I'm still not sure," Bobby replied honestly.

Kevin grinned. "Don't doubt yourself. You _do _make her happy." He looked up at the heavy snow falling from the sky. "We need to get together again sometime soon."

With a smile, Bobby answered, "Sure. Maybe next time you won't get arrested."

"Maybe. But you gotta admit, it was fun."

With a soft laugh, Bobby nodded agreement. "Yeah, it was."

"Well, let's go watch the rugrats dig into their presents. It's always a blast."

Bracing himself, Bobby followed him into the house.

* * *

Bobby never realized it could take such a long time to open presents. He couldn't decide if it was his own impaired sense of time that made it seem so long, or if there really were that many presents beneath the tree. When they were done, Aaron and Mark herded the children through knee-deep wrapping paper to the family room for more Christmas specials and a chance to settle down before their parents took them home. With the happy children went most of the noise and the exhausted adults were able to exchange gifts among themselves.

Reggie sat on the couch beside Alex, looking through the gifts Nate had been given. She loved the soft, floppy elephant and the NYPD t-shirt Bobby had gotten for him, but the last gift from him drew her attention. It was a book entitled _The Littlest Detective_. Alex looked at it with her, then they both looked at Bobby, who stood near the fireplace, withdrawn from the activity around him. Alex was reassured by the intent look on his face. He was paying close attention, not just to the conversations around him, but to the relationship dynamic she shared with her siblings. That was her Bobby. When he looked their way, Alex motioned him over.

He found his way around people and paper to the two women on the couch. Alex grabbed his arm and pulled him down beside her, which didn't take a lot of effort, considering how much he'd had to drink and how much he wanted to be near her. He slid his arm along the back of the couch behind her. "Where did you find this book?" she asked.

"I, uh, I didn't find it," he answered. "I, uhm, I have a friend who works for a publisher in the city. I asked her to help me write it, and she knew someone who would be willing to contribute the illustrations. She found a small, independent publisher, who put it all together for me and bound it. It wasn't hard to do, and I knew he'd like it."

Alex stared at him. "You wrote this?"

"No. My friend did. It was just my idea."

Reggie ran her fingers along the edge of the hardcover book. "You did this for my Nate?"

Uncomfortable with the attention, he shifted where he sat. Alex leaned against him, and he settled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders in response. Reggie got up and leaned over to kiss him. "Thank you," she said.

Taking the book, she showed it around. Alex could tell Bobby was beginning to get stressed, but before she could get him another glass of egg nog or suggest he step out for another cigarette, Nate came into the room. He trotted to the couch and picked up the elephant Bobby had given him. Then he stopped in front of Bobby and took his hand. Alex gently tickled her partner's side. "Go with Nate," she encouraged, knowing he would be more at ease among the children.

He gave her a quick kiss, which spoke volumes to her. Although brief and light, his kiss told her he was either comfortable in their surroundings, which she knew he was not, or he'd had enough to drink that he didn't care. She smiled as she watched her nephew lead him away.

Her mother sat beside her and handed her a beautiful wooden frame that contained a picture of her she had never seen before. "Where did you get this, Mom?"

"From Bobby. It's a beautiful picture of you, Alex. You look so..."

When her mother faltered, searching for the right word, Alex said, "Happy. I look happy, Mom."

"Exactly. It's been such a long time since I've seen this kind of happiness on your face."

Alex smiled and hugged her mother. "For a long time, I forgot I could feel this way. Bobby is good for me, in a way I never expected, and I hope I'm good for him, too."

Helen smiled. "He's here, sweetheart, with family. That's a very good thing."

"He's so uncomfortable," Alex answered, running her hand along the frame. "I don't know if he'll thank me for convincing him to come with me or not."

Her mother rubbed the back of her hand. "He will." She hesitated for a moment before she looked up from the picture. "Do you love him, Alex?"

"Yes, Mom. I do love him. But...loving Bobby is a challenge, part blessing and part curse. He..." She got up suddenly and walked to the kitchen. Undeterred, her mother followed her, watching as Alex prepared a pot of coffee. Alex's voice was soft when she spoke, but she continued to keep busy, distracting herself from the pain her words brought to her. "He was damaged, Mom, as a child. He was...abused and unloved. I'm not sure he knows what it is to be in love, to feel love or to offer it."

"He may surprise you, darling. Believe me, actions speak louder than words. He may not have wanted to come with you tonight, but he's here, and he doesn't resent being here because he's with you. He may not give you what you expect, but it is love I see in his eyes when he looks at you, whether he recognizes it or not. Give him time, and show him what love is. He'll learn to recognize it, once he realizes what he's looking for."

"But what about what I'm looking for, Mom? What if he can't tell me that he loves me?"

"Just what are you looking for, dear? Happiness? A man who loves you? Or a lonely life searching for something that you already have? Are the words so vital when what he holds in his heart is real, even if he's not aware love is what he's feeling? Does it make it any less real if he can't find the words to express it?"

"I don't know, Mom. It's nice to be told that you're loved."

Helen smiled at her as she had when Alex was a teenager. "That may be true, sweetheart, but it's so much better to be _shown_ that you're loved, especially by a man who doesn't have to think about it."

"He thinks about everything," Alex said with a laugh.

"Life wasn't a bed of roses with Joe, either. Remember?"

"I remember. But I liked the life we had. As far as I was concerned, he was the one, like Dad was for you."

"Alexandra, don't think that I haven't had my doubts over the years. Everyone has doubts; it's human nature. Maybe Joe was the one, but he was taken early, and now Bobby has come along. Maybe he's meant to be the one for the rest of your life. Don't close the door on that possibility because his mind isn't sure of what his heart feels. Don't talk yourself out of loving him."

Alex poured the coffee into two cups, adding cream and sugar to hers and sugar to her mother's. "We'll figure it out," she said, handing a cup to Helen.

Helen kissed her cheek. "I think you already have and you're just waiting for him to catch up."

Alex smiled. "Maybe."

They returned to the living room, where a lively debate was raging between Kevin and Mark over the merits of being a cop, like Kevin was, versus being a firefighter, like Mark. Brian, a firefighter in the same station house as Mark, was wisely staying out of it.

Helen sat down on the couch between Reggie and John, resting her head on her husband's shoulder as he put his arm around her and kissed her head. If her mother truly had suffered doubts over the years, she never showed that to her children. Naturally her parents had their fights and arguments, but Alex had never found cause to question their love for one another or for their children. She had trouble imagining the childhood Bobby had grown up enduring.

When Kevin tried to enlist her in his debate with Mark, she refused and instead, went in search of Bobby. She found him in the den with the children. Children were sprawled out with one another on the couch and both chairs, sleeping. Bobby was on the floor, laying on his side with his head on a throw pillow. Nate was sleeping comfortably against him and Krissy was sound asleep, straddling his side. His left arm held her securely in place. _It's a Wonderful Life_ was on the television.

Alex sat down on the floor behind him, near his shoulder, and ran her hand through his hair as he turned his head to look at her. "How's it going?" she asked.

"Good," he answered with a sleepy grin.

"Do you like Dad's eggnog?"

He nodded. "It's, uh, traditional. Very strong."

She laughed. "That's the way he likes it."

He slid his head off the pillow and rested it in her lap. She caressed his face as they watched the movie. "When I was a kid," she said as she absently stroked his hair. "I preferred _Santa_ _Claus is Coming to Town_, _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_, and _The Little Drummer Boy_. Things changed as I grew up and, every Christmas we were together, Joe and I watched _Miracle on 34__th__ Street_. The original, with Natalie Wood. I liked the idea that there can still be wonder in the world. I kind of lost that after he died." She looked at the television, but she was seeing the past. Gracefully, her finger drew circles around his ear. "Then...I met you. You gave Christmas a different meaning for me, and this movie became my favorite. You remind me of George Bailey." She looked down at him, almost surprised to see wonder in his eyes. She smiled, though her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "You have never been able to see your own worth. You don't understand that the world would be a much darker place without you in it."

"Then you would be my Clarence, sent to show me my worth" he said with a smile. "Only you are much prettier."

She laughed and continued to stroke his hair and his face. "Did you have a good time tonight?"

"Yes."

"See? It wasn't as bad as you thought it would be."

"I never thought it would be bad. I just thought you would have a better time if you didn't have to babysit me."

She laughed. "Well, you were wrong, smart guy. I had a much better time because you were here. You took a lot of pressure off me."

"How'd I do that?"

Leaning down, she brushed her lips across his. "I'm ready to go whenever you are. My brothers are debating, and that could go on for hours."

He looked interested. "Debating what?"

"Nothing intellectual, believe me. Mark is a firefighter and he's trying to convince Kevin it's better to be a firefighter than a cop. Kevin disagrees."

"Ah. Sounds like an argument Logan would be interested in." He placed his index finger against his lips. "Don't tell Mark, but I think Kevin's right."

She laughed again, and whispered, "Your secret is safe with me."

The sound of her laughter made him smile and his eyes glowed at her. He reached up and caressed her cheek, drawing her down for another, longer kiss. She pulled back and smoothed her fingers over his lips. "Back to your place?"

"If you don't mind."

"You said you had plans."

"Then we should go to my place."

"I'll put together a little bed for Krissy."

After arranging pillows on the floor, she picked Krissy up from her perch on top of Bobby and set her in the middle of the pillows. She moved Nate against the pillows and tried not to laugh as she watched Bobby try to get to his feet. Finally up and mostly steady, he wagged a finger at her. "'It'll get you through the night,' you said," he accused.

"And?"

He moved closer and rested his head against hers. "Well, I survived," he answered, kissing her head.

"Would you come with me again to another family gathering?"

Sliding his arm around her, he kissed her softly and whispered, "I will do anything you want me to do, Clarence."

With an amused laugh, she poked him playfully and said, "I'll remember that."

Running her hand down his arm, she closed it around his and led him out of the room. The debate in the living room had increased in volume and intensity. Alex led him into the kitchen, where her parents washed the dishes together, as they usually did following large family gatherings. She admired their close relationship, fostered and enriched over the decades of their marriage. They had survived so much, and they had done it together. They were stronger as a couple than either of them had ever been alone.

"Mom, Dad, we're going to head out, before the boys start throwing punches."

"Oh, they'll be out in the backyard before it comes to that, honey," John assured her.

Helen gave them a loving smile. "Did you have a nice time, Bobby, dear?"

"Yes, Mrs. Eames. Thank you for everything. It was a delicious meal and an, uh, intense evening. I don't think I've ever experienced anything quite like it."

"I hope you will consider coming back and joining us again."

He bowed slightly at the waist, and Alex held onto him as he faltered. He recovered quickly and replied, "I would be honored."

Helen hugged her daughter as John shook Bobby's hand. "Take care of my girl," he ordered.

Bobby nodded. "I promise, as much as she'll let me."

"Don't let her steamroll you," John cautioned with a good-natured smile.

"That's easier said than done," Bobby responded.

John clapped his hand against Bobby's shoulder and moved to fold his little girl in a big hug. Quietly, he charged her with the same task. "Make sure you take care of him, honey. I don't think he'd let another soul do it."

"I'll do my best, Dad."

Helen vanished into a comfortable hug and squeezed Bobby's waist. "Thank you for your kindness," Bobby told her.

"You are always welcome here," she promised.

After retrieving their coats and bidding farewell to the rest of the family, which brought a pause in the heated debate between the two youngest brothers, Bobby and Alex left her parents' home and began the snowy drive to Brooklyn.


	7. An Angel's Wings

The going was slow as the snow began to fall more heavily on the city streets. Bobby settled into the passenger seat, watching the huge snowflakes drift to the ground. He liked large, wet snowflakes in heavy snowstorms. He wished he could drive because he knew she didn't care to drive in the snow and he didn't mind it.

In the peace and quiet of the car, he felt his remaining tension fade away. He was relaxed and he felt really good. They'd had a nice night and he had enjoyed her family, but the stimulation of all the light, noise and constant activity had been more than he had been prepared to handle. Next time he would be better prepared.

_Next time..._ The fact that he was willing to consider a next time was telling. As overwhelmed as he had been all night, he would still go through it again for her, if she asked him. He preferred spending time with her and Nate at the zoo or the Museum of Natural History, where the 'busyness' of their surroundings was more low-key, but if she wanted him to gather with the clan from time to time, he would do that—for her.

Alex reached over and grasped his hand. He turned it over as he raised it to his mouth, kissing her palm. She never understood how he managed to send shivers down her spine and make her ache for him with something as simple as a kiss in the palm of her hand. "How do you feel?" she asked.

He was quiet as he considered how to answer her. Finally, with his internal censors on hiatus, he responded, "When I'm with you, I feel...loved."

Surprised, she had no idea how to reply to that. _Loved_. She had not expected that answer at all. The car slid on a slick spot as she crossed an intersection, and she returned her hand to the steering wheel, gripping it tight as she continued to navigate the snowy streets. He returned his attention to the snow, unwilling to distract her in that kind of weather. He didn't expect a reply from her, and he was glad she hadn't offered one.

* * *

It was warm inside the car, and comfortable, and by the time she parked down the street from his place, he was asleep. She turned off the engine and sat in the near silence, watching him. The only sound in the car was his breathing--deep, regular breaths punctuated with soft snores.

She smiled and reached out, stroking his hair. He didn't stir, but she had experience waking him after he'd been drinking. Leaning forward, she kissed him. After a moment, he began to respond to her. When she drew back, he sat up and looked around. "Oh...we-we're here," he said groggily.

"Yes, we're here."

He made no move to exit the car and she ran her fingernail up and down his thigh. He watched her hand as she trailed her finger down and around his knee, halfway to his hip along his inner thigh and then back. She smiled and said, "Shall we go inside?"

The husky edge to her voice surprised her and drew his eyes to her face. He moved closer and she fell deeper into his gaze until her eyelids closed and their lips came together. He took her breath away, and she pulled back before her control vanished entirely. "Let's go inside," she insisted breathlessly.

She slid out of the car, and so did he. He extended his hand to her as she stepped up onto the sidewalk and she took it. They walked in silence through the heavy snowfall. Already more than an inch of new snow had fallen.

He always liked to walk in the snow, especially with her. He liked to watch snowflakes melt on her eyelashes and he loved the glow that the cold gave her face. Even more, he enjoyed warming her when they returned home, whether it was her home or his.

He fished in his pocket for his keys and opened the door, letting them inside. After helping her off with her coat and slipping out of his, he hung them both by the door. Taking off his suit jacket, he draped it over the back of the recliner in the living room, and removed his already loosened tie, opening two more buttons of his shirt. Then he stepped up to Alex and slid his hand along the side of her face before leaning in to kiss her.

She melted into his embrace, enjoying the taste of him as he explored her mouth and then gave her the chance to explore his. Lost in his kiss, she offered no resistance when he eased them toward the bedroom. He eased her gently onto the bed and crawled over her, lingering above her as he continued to work his mouth over hers.

She slipped her hand between their bodies and finished unbuttoning his shirt. He took the hint and worked at her clothes as well. There had been times between them that were frantic and times that had been calm. He was sometimes forceful and she could be demanding. Tonight, he took his time exploring her body with his hands and his mouth, and they both craved the slow, sensual pace he was setting.

When he finally rolled off her, both completely satisfied, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. He drifted off quickly. She snuggled against him, comfortable and totally content.

Every encounter between them had qualities that made each one unique, and tonight was no different. But for her, there was a single thread that tied it all together, and that was deep emotion. There was no doubt in her heart or her mind that she loved him, and that love was reinforced with every kiss, every caress. He never said the words, but he worshiped her with his body every time they were together. He always left her in a very good place, satisfied and sated.

The most telling indication for her of his satisfaction was his sleep. He drifted off quickly and generally slept well. After seeing him well-rested following his nights with her, she was better able to judge his condition on the mornings after they spent the night apart. Those mornings, she saw his fatigue and she knew he hadn't slept well. When she tried to bring it up, he dismissed her concern and changed the subject. But she knew.

Kissing his chest, she snuggled deeper into his embrace, and, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing, drifted to sleep.

* * *

Alex woke the next morning, still nestled deeply in his embrace. She kissed him softly before sliding from his arms without waking him. She dressed and left the bedroom.

Almost two hours passed before Bobby came out of the bedroom. He wore navy sweats and a black t-shirt. His hair was disheveled, which she'd always found sexy. He got a cup of coffee from the kitchen and joined Alex on the couch, leaning in to kiss her. When he leaned back, she smiled and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Not bad. Just a little hung over. Powerful egg nog."

She laughed. "Yes. Dad's Christmas pride and joy."

"How are you this morning?" He glanced at the clock to verify that it was still morning.

She teased his hair. "I'm great," she assured him. "I liked the plans you had for last night."

"Oh, well...that wasn't exactly what I had planned, but..." He grinned. "It was good."

"It was better than good," she insisted, leaning in to nuzzle his ear.

He closed his eyes and almost dropped his coffee. Shoving the cup onto the coffee table, sloshing hot coffee over the sides, he turned toward her and kissed her. She sank back into the cushions and surrendered to him.

When he broke the kiss, she smiled. "I wondered if you were going to come up for air."

"Who needs air?"

She laughed. "If that wasn't what you'd planned for us, what did I miss?"

"Oh...nothing...nothing we can't take care of today."

Her face was bright with curiosity and expectation. He lurched off the couch and crossed the room to the small tabletop tree he'd put up at her insistence. She had chided him about the bleakness of his apartment, so to appease her, he'd purchased a foot-and-a-half tall tree, pre-decorated, and set it on the table in the corner. She'd given it a critical eye, but decided it was better than nothing and he was a Christmas work-in-progress. She was determined, over time, to turn Christmas into a positive experience for him. She knew it would take time, patience and effort, but she was used to that. Everything with him took time, patience and effort.

He took a small wrapped box from beneath the tree, brought it back to the couch and sat down. "It took me a long time to find this. I hope you like it."

She took the gift and looked at it. It was perfectly wrapped in red and silver foil, tied with a green foil bow. She ran her finger along its edge. Rising from the couch, she retrieved the other present from under the little tree, bringing it back to him. "You are impossible to shop for," she chided. "But I hope you like this and don't get mad at me for what I did."

"Mad at you? Why would I get mad at you?"

"Just open it. You'll see."

He hesitated. "You first."

She offered no debate. Carefully, she unwrapped the gift and opened the golden box. She stared at the pendant and earrings nestled within its cottony lining. "Oh, my God...Bobby... they...they're beautiful."

"I, uhm, I thought...two hearts, joined as one...it-it's symbolic."

She looked up, saw the struggle he was having to find words that were alien to him. He could use words and feelings to taunt suspects and goad them into confessions, but applying them to himself, other than in an oblique way, was foreign to him. He knew the emotions were in there, but nailing them down and pulling them forward to be identified was not something he ever learned to do. Or if he had once known, it was now a lost skill. He was not going to insult her with empty words and platitudes.

She took the pendant from the box and held it out to him. "Put it on me," she said, her eyes bright and happy.

"You like it?"

"Bobby, I love it."

He took the necklace from her and opened the clasp. Draping it over her chest, he fastened the clasp, then drew her hair out of the chain. Holding her hair in one hand, he leaned down and kissed her neck.

She placed her hand over the pendant, which rested just above the swell of her breasts, and closed her eyes. Tipping her head forward, she trembled as his lips stroked her skin.

Slowly, he let her hair feather through his fingers as he sat back. "Let me see," he said softly.

She turned to let him see the pendant resting against her skin. He took the box from her hand and gently removed the diamond stud from each ear, replacing them with the earrings that matched her pendant. He touched her chin, turning her face to one side and then the other. "You...are beautiful."

Her face colored and he smiled, taking her hand in his. "Thank you for not giving up on me, for getting me to go with you last night."

She stroked his hand with her thumb. "Why?" she wondered. Nothing was ever as it seemed with him, and she wanted to know why he was glad he'd gone with her.

"Watching you with your family was a new experience for me. The entire night was a new experience."

"Tell me about it," she encouraged.

He rested his hand on her leg and lightly stroked it. "There is a lot of love in your family, and they care about you as much as I do. They're protective and they want the best for you. They seem to think I may fit that bill."

"And what about you, Bobby? Do you think you fit that bill?"

"I don't know. I hope so, because you are definitely good for me. But I'm not the one to judge that. You are. Only you can know your heart, Alex."

She moved closer to him. "And what about your heart?"

He looked into her eyes for a long moment before he lifted the gift she'd given him from the couch beside him. "I, uh, I should probably open this."

"Dammit, Bobby...every time I try to talk to you about your feelings, you retreat from me!"

He looked away, toward the floor, and did not respond. His grip on the wrapped gift tightened. She laid her hand over his, contrite. "I'm sorry," she said, kissing his temple. "Be careful you don't break that. Go ahead and open it."

He didn't move immediately and she stroked his hair. Finally, he opened the gift. "A frame," he said softly, turning it over.

He almost dropped it when he saw the photograph in the frame. "M-My...my mother," he whispered. He looked at Alex. "Where did you get this?"

"Please don't be mad at me. You were out one day with Logan. I was hanging your dry cleaning in the closet and I found a box of photographs on the floor in the back of it. This was such a beautiful picture, but it was damaged." Her voice became softer. "I know you loved her, and you miss her. So, I had the photo restored and custom framed."

He got up from the couch and paced back and forth, looking at the picture. When he finally looked at her, his cheeks were damp. "I do...I-I do miss her," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She...She never treated me...right." The volume of his voice fell. "But she was my mom."

She stood and walked toward him, uncertain. She didn't know what he needed from her, if anything. Her own eyes were moist, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She stopped and waited for him to make the next move. This had not turned out right. She wasn't sure what she expected, but this was definitely not it. She'd made a mistake.

He walked away from her, to the largest of the bookcases in the room. Taking the picture of Frank and him when they were boys from the center shelf, he moved it to a higher shelf, replacing it with the picture Alex had just given him. He looked at it for a long time before he turned to look at his partner. He held out his arms. "Come here," he said softly.

She did not hesitate to cross the room into his arms and bury her face in his chest. He folded his arms around her and held her tight. "That is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me," he said into her hair.

She did not loosen her hold around his waist. "You're not mad?"

"Oh, God, no. I am...stunned."

He pulled back far enough to nuzzle her face from its hiding place so he could kiss her. He ran his hands up her back and buried them in her hair, moving her back to the couch as he did. Breaking the kiss, he sat down and drew her down beside him. "Alex," he said softly. "I...I struggle with what I feel. I learned a very long time ago to deal with emotion in a rational way. I-I intellectualize what I feel because I am not in touch with my feelings. I.." He was clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, but he pressed on. "The only emotion I truly understand is rage. I never learned to understand anything else."

She caressed his cheek tenderly. "You are a kind, sweet man. Maybe you aren't in touch with your emotions, but they are certainly in touch with you."

"I care," he whispered. "I care so much about you. My life..." His voice broke, but he quickly brought it back under control. "You are all I have. My life...revolves around you. When I...When I wake up in the morning, my first thoughts...they're of you. When I go to sleep at night, my last thoughts...they're of you, too. My waking hours...even those are yours." He took her hand and held it, rubbing it gently with his other hand. "Whenever I walk past a florist, I look at the roses and the lilies, because those are your favorite flowers. Everything reminds me of you in one way or another, because every part of my life...is you."

Tears rolled down each of her cheeks, and he gently kissed them away. She ran her finger tips over his lips before she kissed him. Even his thoughts of her were beautiful. Softly, she asked, "And you don't associate any of that with an emotion?"

He settled against the arm of the couch and pulled her against his chest. He closed his eyes and rubbed her back. "Last night, your father asked me if I love you. I told him that I don't know what it is to be in love. I wasn't trying to lead him on. I really don't know. I have been trying to decipher what I feel, to figure it all out, because I don't want to tell you anything by rote. I don't want it to be meaningless. I said it once, and I thought I meant it. After we got together, though, I began to question just what it means to really love someone you aren't required to love. When it isn't a duty, I'm not sure just what it feels like."

"You said it once? Where was I? I think I'd remember that."

"You...You were sleeping. It was the morning we came back from England."

She lifted her head to look at him. "Sleeping? I was sleeping? You coward."

His eyes darkened. "You're the only one who can get away with calling me that."

"Well, it's true. You do hide from your emotions." She rested her head back on his chest. "And yet everything you do speaks volumes about how you feel."

Suddenly, she didn't need to hear the words from him. She saw love in his eyes every time he looked at her. She felt it powerfully whenever he loved her. She knew it was behind every touch, every kiss and now, every thought in his wonderfully complicated head. She would never forgive his mother for the damage she had done to him, but she would also be eternally grateful to her for the wonderful son she had somehow managed to raise, however accidentally. How could she be so shallow as to demand words when she had evidence of his heart in everything he said and did?

Comfortably nestled in his arms and content to remain there, Alex picked up the remote and turned on the television. She needed a break from the heavy emotions roiling in her chest. She stopped when she found _It's A Wonderful Life_. Happily, she set the remote on the table and said, "It's just started."

While she watched the movie, he let his thoughts roam and tumble around in his head. Maybe he did think too much, but he would hate to make such a vital mistake. He'd once told a girlfriend that he loved her in the heat of a moment and she'd started talking marriage. That had freaked him out on several levels and he'd broken up with her a week later. He'd never made that mistake again, and he didn't want to make it now, when it was so important. He knew she wouldn't overreact if he said it, but he didn't want to put the words out there if he did not have the true emotion to back them up. Although caring was part of loving, there was so much more to it than that. His thoughts spun around in his head at a dizzying pace as he struggled to sort through them.

_Stop thinking,_ a deep inner voice told him. _Love isn't intellectual. You can't compartmentalize it because it touches your whole life._

Love was probably the only feeling that was truly emotional. Anger could be rationalized and analyzed. So could grief and sorrow, joy and pride, jealousy and doubt. Every emotion had a rational or physical component that could be identified...except for love. He could always get a grip on his rage and, well or poorly, he had handled his grief. He understood pride, jealousy and sorrow, even happiness. But love was elusive.

Perhaps it wasn't meant to be understood. Perhaps it was one of those things that was only meant to be experienced, like a spring breeze or a winter storm. Like flowers on the wind, it was ethereal. The ghost of a whisper wrapped itself around his mind. There was nothing he would not do for the woman in his arms. His life had become inextricably entwined with hers. Even her family could see and accept that. So what was his problem?

He was afraid. For all his toughness, his heart was a fragile thing. Once he put it out there, it was in the open, like a crystal figurine, ready to be broken by the first strong wind that came along. But...he was stronger than that. He had endured a lot in his life. What harm could one more thing cause him? He looked at her, snuggled against his chest as she watched her favorite Christmas movie. The world had changed for the worse for Bedford Falls without George Bailey. It would change for Alex Eames without him, also for the worse.

Slowly, the pieces began to fall into place and a picture began to form in his head. Deep inside him, something changed. The ethereal mist in his head somehow became a real thing that he could grab onto and hold. Love could not be rationalized or intellectualized, but it could be felt. Maybe he would never understand it, but he could offer it, like she did. Faith was something he had struggled with all his adult life, and it was hard to put himself out there for anyone. But she certainly deserved it. Maybe, for the first time, he was making an emotional choice that would not come around to sabotage his life.

"Alex?"

She twisted her head to look up at him. "Hmn?"

He almost changed his mind to ask her what she wanted for dinner, but he gave himself a mental kick in the ass. He wasn't a coward. He tipped his head and gently kissed her. Then, looking into the warm amber of her eyes, he said, "I love you."

She was stunned for a moment, having finally convinced herself that she might never hear those word from him. The emotion triggered by those three simple words, coming from him, overwhelmed her. She could tell he wasn't saying them just for her. He meant it, and he said it for both of them, as a confirmation of his feelings.

Turning in his arms, she thought she made a noise of some kind, but she wasn't sure. She kissed him, putting her own love and joy into the kiss. His arms slipped around her, holding her close, and he returned her love. It had not been a mistake.

On the television, a little bell rang. "Look, Daddy. An angel got his wings."

_fin._


End file.
